rigor mortis
by the clockworks
Summary: In which Armin is dead, but really isn't because this place is all wrong. There are no walls in this world and, frankly, it terrifies him. —armin-centric. au. one-shot. canon divergent. no romance.


20 kilometers an hour, metal tinged with dirt and slush and equipped with icicles that hang down to grind against the road, the car trudges along. It minds the snowbanks on either side, steadily growing as the snowflakes plummet downwards and spruce trees kindly tip their hats of ice with large pushes from the wind. Tires (winter ones it's owner hadn't bothered with until a week ago, lord knows what would've happened if they hadn't ever put them on) grip what little asphalt that can be seen through the thick layer of powder to make its approach up a hill. It's headlights are on bright, dull yellow light sparkling against ice and illuminating the objects ahead. Every movement of its wheels takes all of its effort- but still, it presses on. It only has to get home before it can sleep and maybe not wake up again- much to the displeasure of its driver.

Yelling rebounds within the confines of it when its headlights fall upon something, and promptly disregard it.

'What the fu- Dad, stop the car. I think I just saw someone.'

'What?'

'A person, laying in the ditch. Just laying there. Stop the car, I want to check.'

'Son, it was probably some brush or-'

'I'm serious. Stop the car.'

'What, and have a chance of it not starting again? It was probably your imagination.'

'I saw- you could just leave it running. Dad, please. I really think there was someone.'

'We passed our road anyway...again. we'll have to turn back-'

'Godammit, alright...I'm too tired for arguing...the things I do for...'

Movements slow to a halt after making a full turn as the voices dial down to nothing. For a moment there's some fumbling, papers shuffling loudly around hands that grope, before a click is made apparent and a burst of white shines. Doors slam open and shut within half-seconds of each-other.

Two figures pace in the darkness, dressed to the nines in heavy polyester coats and skipants, hands held stiff in old mittens. There wasn't much to them other than their warm clothing and height- it overpowered them, made their shadows look like tall heaps of grey marshmellow icing, the kind of monsters you'd see in old kids cartoons. The shadows morph with the ones of the towering trees looming aside the pair then slowly fade out, leaving only the bobbing beam of the flashlight to give the scene ahead some detail. Footsteps patter against the ground and heavy breaths leave clouds of vapour in the air, wind gasps in the distance, laughing harshly.

The thin outline of a body comes into view.

Breath catches and, briefly, the whispers of gas stop their steady hiss into the air. There's an uncomfortable sensation for the both of them as their hearts slip in their patterns. Light roughly zigzags back and forth as the smaller one jogs forwards, their partner falling close behind.

'Hey!'

Whether or not the figure heard is irrelevant in the face of their curiosity. They keep moving forward before coming to a complete halt at the edge of the road.

'You can't just run off like tha- oh my god.'

'Jesus Christ-'

A boy lays in the snowbank- lips blue, skin waxy, bare hands curled tightly around a strange pair of blades. Gears are strewn about him, metal sheets bent and hammered into the ground. Trees sway slightly above him as if relishing in another organism's defeat by the cold. Stars flicker above it, admiring the scene and not going anything to help it. They merely leave it as it is, bathed in artificial light.

'Oh god, is he alive? Its almost minus fifty outside and he's wearing that- that...? Is he dead?'

'I can't tell, holy shit, holy shit- call an ambulance!'

'Service cars haven't been running all day, and I don't get reception out here. I thought you knew that, Alex!'

'What do we do, then!?'

The taller figure glances over to the boy, trudging closer before slipping hands underneath him to lift him- avoiding the blades sticking straight up.

The boy doesn't droop in their arms, he doesn't even sag.

'Well take him ourselves, that's what. Get moving.'

'Dad-!'

'What did I say? Get moving.'

* * *

><p>The thing about being dead is that you're aware of it, painfully so, and every organ in you ceases to know otherwise. There isn't any space for believing in something other than it, no room left for thoughts of 'hey, I shouldn't be like this' or 'why is this happening to me'. Death hogs his attention, every millimeter of it there is, and begs for more with a smile like a child. He obliges, though he isn't sure how.<p>

Cold strums the fibres of his nerves, sharp fingers nestling somewhere in his prevailing rigor mortis. White blankets his eyes, and he's briefly aware of the softness of it. Faint whispers cloak his ears, hums whirring casually in the background.

He hears something else.

*****A blurry***  
><strong>**Beep  
><strong>

*****Accompanied by a resounding***  
><strong>**Tick-tock**

_(hickory dickory dock the mouse ran up the clock)_

Life is there when he wakes, and Armin screams.

* * *

><p><strong>note1; eyy. so lately i've been reading some 'people-brought-to-fictional-world' stories, and a few 'fictional-characters-brought-to-real-world' fics. to be honest, none of them really dealt with what it would be like to be in a place that's completely different from anything you've ever known. most of them were just like 'oh, a new place. cool'. that kinda put me off, mostly because i like applying reality to things.<strong>

**lo and behold, that problem kept me up for a couple nights until i basically planned a whole story centering around this problem. in canada. bc canada is cool and you know it.**

**ignore that pun**

**but yeah, um.**

**anyway, i let that idea sit until i wrote something for it- so here we have this little drabble.**

**i'm not exactly sure if i should continue this, mostly because i'm not as committed to it as i am most stories. i might though if people happen to really like it. but i'll leave it as complete for now and wait and see what happens, i guess.**

**note2; thank you for taking the time to read this story, feel free to drop a review if you liked it. also, thank you for any advice or critiques you might leave me. i'm always looking to improve my writing skills, and those certainly help me to do so.**

**(also bless you for suffering through this hella long author's note. just. bless. we need more people like you)**


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